


It's All Fun And Games Until The Riots Break Out

by CaseyStar



Series: bbcmerlinfest 2014 [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Arthur/Merlin - Freeform, Background Relationships, M/M, Morgana is the fic's focus, depictions of post bomb scene, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1583033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyStar/pseuds/CaseyStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern magical au<br/>Uther Pendragon is the Prime Minister, Gaius his magical counterpart as Magical Minister.<br/>Morgana acts as Uther's assistant and makes him look half decent in the eyes of the Magicals, while Arthur is his heir apparent.  Merlin is Gaius' assistant and one day his successor.</p><p>A year ago Uther did something stupid and pissed off Magicals and Non-Magicals alike.  Now its the anniversay of those terrible riots and someone, or something, wants Uther dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All Fun And Games Until The Riots Break Out

**Author's Note:**

> The Arthur/Merlin is barely mentioned, it's a background relationship as the story focuses on Morgana.
> 
> Over on tumblr [ kcsplace](http://kcsplace.tumblr.com), so come say hello here if you want.

Well, if this day was going to be abysmal, then she was just going to damn well make sure it was worse for someone else.

Like Arthur.

Morgana smiled as she tugged her phone from her trouser pocket and scrolled through her contacts, shielding the screen from the drizzling rain with her other hand.

“Hmmm, ’ello?”

Perfect, she’d woken him up. 

“Dear brother,” she began.

“Oh god, no. No, whatever you want, just no.”

Casting her eye over the crowd of volunteers setting up the stage and the AV equipment, Morgana began inspecting the fingernails of her free hand, frowning at her less than perfect manicure. You’d really think there’d be a spell somewhere that just _dealt_ with all the trivial parts of life. 

Like Arthur.

“Who says I want anything?” Buffing her nails against her jacket didn’t help the chipped polish but they did shine better now. She’d have to speak to Merlin, surely with her own power, combined with that of the most powerful sorcerer that ever lived, they’d be able to cobble together a spell that permanently fixed her manicure. Oh, and left her legs silky smooth. And her hair shiny. Merlin’s hair was always shiny, perhaps he already knew of a spell the little fink. 

“Because its-” rustling on the line told her that Arthur was rolling over to check the bedside clock, a groan bringing a smile to her face, “six in the morning. Even Merlin isn’t up yet.”

“Yes I am you fucking heavy lout. Get off!” 

“That’s not what you said last night.”

“No, then it was _‘get **me** off you fucking heavy lout’.”_

“Still on the phone, guys.”

“Yes, why are you calling, Morgana?”

“Your father.”

“Why is he always _my_ father when he’s annoying you?”

“Answered your own question there – oW!” Merlin’s retort cut off, a heavy thud suggestive that Arthur had just pushed him off the bed.

“Are you bullying him again Arthur?” Morgana asked, eyebrow arching, knowing her brother could just tell her expression from her tone. The last time he’d been less than gentlemanly to Merlin, Morgana had let her magic, and herself, have a little fun. It wasn’t that she thought Merlin couldn’t handle himself, or couldn’t turn Arthur into a donkey without her aid, it was that the idiot tended to let love blind him, and just _didn’t_ do it. 

So she did. 

And if she got some amusement from watching Arthur grow foot long furry ears and braying every time he talked, for three days, then that was simply a bonus. She did it all for Merlin. Gwen having chased Arthur around to pet his ears because they were _‘just so fluffy’_ was simply icing on a perfect cake. She could have done with Gwaine repeatedly asking if it meant that Arthur was now hung like a horse, but no magic was ever perfect.

“Merlin said you were to stop turning me into things.”

“Hmmm,” Morgana mused, movement at the corner of her eye attracting her attention, but it was only a bird. It wasn’t like she _wanted_ Uther’s most fervent band of detractors to attack per se, but it would at least be interesting and give her magic a little outlet that wasn’t the piddly kid stuff Gaius had her practice with. 

It was Uther’s fault for being a hypocritical bigot in the first place. Those with magic and those without had been living happily side by side for centuries. Oh, of course there was the occasional hate crime, or magic used in a crime, but then Non-Magicals had been committing murders, and bank robberies and assaults too so mostly people just got on with the day to day business of living life. Having magic was no more likely to make you rich or famous or in a position of power. 

For centuries it had all been fine.

Then Uther. Uther and his genius plan to have all Magicals register, and submit to testing at random intervals. 

The riots last year had been something to behold. At first Uther had looked to Gaius, in his role as Magical Minister, to calm the perpetrators, whom Uther assumed to be Magicals. Except they weren’t. Slightly more than fifty percent of those known to have been involved had been NM’s, furious at the considered treatment of their family members, of friends and neighbours. So they’d taken to the streets.

The Magicals had felt betrayed; Uther had embraced magic as most had, profiting from the bolstered healthcare that came from Magical doctors and chemists, rejoicing in the good that magic did with helping cure hunger in underdeveloped countries, and most importantly, seeking the help of three of the strongest Magicals in the world when he and his wife had been unable to conceive. 

The moment Arthur had been born, Ygraine had seemed to weaken. She doted on her son, spoiling him rotten, and he was the light of her life, as was Morgana when she came to live with them after her parent’s deaths, but as he grew older, she grew weaker, thinner, less vital though her love for her son shone from her eyes until the moment of her death.

Ygraine had known what Uther hadn’t. Life couldn’t come from nothing, even magic couldn’t do that. Arthur’s life had come from hers, as she had been warned it would, and she had forged on regardless, leaving a grieving family behind when Arthur was twelve and Morgana fourteen. Three years later Morgana and Arthur had learnt that Uther was Morgana’s father also, the result of an affair with her mother. Neither had ever truly forgiven Uther for that, though for different reasons.

Magic became dark to Uther after Ygraine’s death, a source of fear and hatred, but he’d largely kept his views out of his political life, aware that the Magical vote was a strong one. Now he was Prime Minister however, all bets seemed to be off. He’d only clung on to the position by the skin of his teeth after the debacle with the Magical Registration proposal, though death threats came thick and fast, especially now they were coming up to the anniversary of the worst day of rioting.

“So what’s he done now?” Morgana could hear the resignation in Arthur’s tone, the rustle of the sheets as he pulled himself to sit up, Merlin no doubt trying to steal all the covers.

“He wants to use me as an example of his acceptance of magic,” Arthur’s scoff was only beaten by Merlin’s, the sorcerer’s dry laugh harsh, “and you too Merlin.”

“What?” There was the sound of a scuffle, and a cry of pain from Arthur before the phone went silent.

“Hello? Hello?” Morgana took her phone from her ear, but according to the screen the call was still active.

“Has one of you fuckers placed me on hold?” A nearby sound engineer helping with the stage for the rally glanced over at her, frown creasing his brow.

“Pretty girls don’t say ugly words,” he reprimanded, even going so far to wag his finger at her, as though she were a dog, “I don’t care who you are. There’s no need for it.”

“Wrong day to push me,” she muttered under her breath staring the man down. “Good thing I’m not a fucking pretty _girl_ then isn’t it?”

She called out, brushing her magic out and around the podium, short-circuiting the microphone and technical equipment he’d been painstaking working on for the last hour, sparks cracking out. Smiling beatifically, Morgana flicked the microphone off the stage with a mere thought, the device smashing into a gratifyingly large number of pieces.

“Shit!” The man jumped back from the impromptu miniature firework display that had been his technical board.

“Ah ah ah, language,” Morgana wagged her finger back at him. 

“Morgana?” Merlin seemed oddly out of breath, and there was a muffled buzz coming down the phone.

“What the fuck, Merlin?” Morgana asked, still glowering at the engineer.

“Ummm, just needed to get the phone.” The buzz got louder, almost a mumbling sou-

“What have you done to Arthur?” A smile broke out across Morgana’s face; Merlin wasn’t _always_ above using his magic.

“Hes’…um…having a time out.” The mumble turned sharp, as if Arthur was screaming behind whatever barrier Arthur had created.  
“So, what’s Uther want with me?”

“Us,” Morgana stated, moving away from the stage, getting some space between herself and the volunteers. It wasn’t exactly private but she needed to speak with Merlin now, not twelve hours from now when her day ended. If then. 

“Me, you, and Mordred.” Morgana rolled her eyes, smoothing down her blouse as she spoke. “He wants to have some sort of gala, I don’t know if he really knows yet, but he wants us to show off what we can do, but only what he asks, when he asks.”

“He wants it to look as if he commands us? That he is in control of us?” Merlin was outraged, and Morgana could swear the phone was picking up the sound of the air around him crackling from his magic.

“Like dogs on a leash,” Morgana confirmed, feeling her anger growing once more. Mordred had had to talk her down off that ledge last night  
“Fuck that,” Merlin spat, all his sleepy good humour swept aside by Uther’s constant bigotry and interference.

“Yup.”

“I thought he was past it, the magical thing.” 

Only Merlin would describe his immense raw power as a 'thing'. If he wanted he could watch the world burn, just with a snap of his fingers. He could raise the dead and command the skies. He could rule the world and all he wanted was his quiet life in his flat with Arthur and their pet cat Kili. Some days, most if she were honest, Morgana couldn't see what the intelligent young man saw in her brother, but to each their own she supposed.

If Arthur had thought Uther was angry when he’d come out to his father, it was nothing to bringing home a Magical for a boyfriend. Especially Merlin, with his ludicrous amount of power. Morgana had found it hysterical just how much Uther was threatened by a man less than half his age, with no political ambition to speak of, despite being the obvious successor to Magical Minster when the time came. Arthur had been less amused and Merlin had alternated between terrified of the man, furious and laughter.

“Seriously now, it’s been years,” Merlin complained, the mumble in the background getting louder as Arthur no doubt voiced his agreement.  
A flash of movement in the building opposite drew Morgana’s attention. Whoever it was had to be dedicated; if she didn’t have to be here so early, she knew she wouldn’t be and she was pretty sure that dentist’s didn’t have seven am appointments on a Sunday. 

Or any other day for that matter. Strange. Must have needed to do paperwork or thought they’d left the laughing gas on or something.

“When has Uther ever responded in a sane manner to anything?” Something was nagging at her, something she’d forgotten. Probably to make a dentist’s appointment.

“He’s even been nice to me recently!” Merlin sounded indignant that Uther had been attempting to curry favour in such a manner. “I thought he’d finally gotten used to the idea I was fucking his son.”

Arthur’s appalled “Hmfffmfmff,” came over loud and clear down the phone, and Morgana smiled at how she just _knew_ her brother was turning pillar box red.

“Oh shut up, Arthur,” Merlin dismissed airily, and no doubt with a roll of his eyes. Some days he likely regretted moving in with the prat, longing wistfully for the days when he was alone in his apartment, an apartment empty of irritations like football cleats and dirty kits, empty of fast food comprising of only E numbers and chemicals. 

Empty.

The buildings were supposed to be empty. 

That was why it was so strange for someone to be in the dentist’s office. They’d been thoroughly searched the night before and then locked up tight and kept under surveillance. The death threats against Uther had been coming in thick and fast as the riot anniversary approached and she’d wanted to take no chances, having the security team sweep the surrounding area every few hours and kept the surrounding buildings empty since midnight, not reopening them until five Sunday afternoon.

Turning, Morgana rapidly moved back towards the stage, eyes searching out Leon, her father’s Chief of Security.

“Merlin, something’s strange, can you hang on a sec-”

She didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence. The blast ripped through the town square, picking Morgana, and everyone and everything else in its path, up and throwing them into the air as though they were nothing but paper toys. The momentum sent her slamming back into the wall of the town hall, her back absorbing most of the impact, head exploding in pain as it snapped back into the bricks before she crumpled to the floor unconscious.  
****  
Merlin hit the stairs as though a dragon was burning the ground beneath his heels, unbuttoned shirt flapping open like wings behind him, bare feet slapping on the wooden steps. Arthur clattered down behind him, frantically redialling Morgana’s phone, once more the call being sent to voicemail, his own shirt clasped in his other hand as he hung up and tried again. 

Both men had leapt out of bed at the sound of the explosion, both screaming uselessly into a phone that no longer held an open call. They’d grabbed the closest clothes, Arthur stuffing his feet into running shoes, and run out the door less than a minute after Morgana had been cut off.  
Merlin couldn’t dematerialise in a confined space, or inside. Something about needing to feel the ground beneath his feet and the sky all around him, being a being of true magic and child of the earth and sky. He was the only Magical who was capable of travel in that manner, the power required immense and it was even more so when he travelled with a companion. He’d be partially drained when they arrived, but he’d still be more powerful than the average Magical, and still be of use to those injured or trapped.

As Merlin banged through the building’s front door, he frantically scrambled down the steps, unaware of the broken glass on the pavement that sliced into the sole of his feet as he headed for the closest patch of earth, planting his feet in the neighbour’s flower bed as he reached for Arthur, helping him tug his shirt over his head before clutching him close.

Merlin wrapped himself around Arthur, and tucked his face into Arthur’s neck, breathing deeply of his lover’s scent to calm himself and his racing heart. 

“Focus on Morgana. Think about how you love her,” he instructed, mumbling into golden skin but feeling Arthur’s nod of understanding, for once the blond not denying his love for his sister, not joking that he tolerated her for Merlin’s sake. Merlin focused on his own adoration of his friend, of his respect for her and her magic, the scent of her perfume and the sound of her laughter, clinging to his memories of her magical signature and sent his magic out to find hers, as he felt the itchy strange feel of his molecules scattering apart and dancing on the wind as he visualised a bridge spanning the gap between them and her, sensed the feel of metal beneath his feet as he imagined that gap becoming smaller and smaller as they travelled, the feel of air brushing past his face and through his hair, speeding through space and time to his friend’s side.  
****  
It was as if a firework had been let off in her face, lights exploding across her vision, a spectacular light show playing out on the back of her eyelids. 

Confused, head ringing, Morgana tried to push herself up against…what? The pavement? The wall? She couldn’t tell how she was lying or where but the moment her right hand moved to take her weight she slumped back to the pavement with a scream, white hot pain lancing up her arm, nausea overtaking her as she gagged into the concrete, the sharp burn of bile thick at the back of her throat as her uninjured hand wrapped instinctively around her shattered wrist.

Morgana lay as still as she could, eyes closed, breaths short as they punched out of lungs that felt five sizes too small, unable to pull in enough air, feeling as though she was drowning on dry land as the world fell apart around her. 

She had no idea how much time passed as she fought for control, of her body, of her magic. Had it been minutes or years that she’d laid here, her back against the cold concrete? Had the bruises on her body bloomed and healed? Had the streets been swept clean and the buildings rebuilt around her?

It was a hell of a lot harder to get to her feet on shaking legs without using her hands, but she managed, her first few steps tentative and stumbling as she took in the carnage.

There were people everywhere in the aftermath, mouths open, pink tongues shaping words against bleeding lips but she couldn’t hear their cries over the crashing sounds resounding through her head, as though she were standing upon a stormy shore inches from the roaring waves. The air stank of smoke and burnt flesh and through the smoke and her double vision, Morgana could just make out the orange flames licking at the sky. 

Swaying, ignoring the thumping in her temples, and the blood that she could feel trickling down her neck and no doubt staining her favourite blouse, and the dust in the air that threatened to choke her, Morgana let her magic rise to the surface of her skin, forming a shield that she tried to throw outwards to form a dome over the square, protecting those within from further attack, but it as too weak, she was too weak and the shield cracked and faded almost instantly.

Taking a deep breath, Morgana called her magic forth again, letting it seep from her skin and crackling out into the surrounding area as though she were a giant antenna, her magic reaching out in all directions, brushing though rubble and person alike, seeking. The searching magic was less taxing, reaching out only to find and not shield. Her magic was sluggish in its exhaustion but rolled forth, swarming along the ground and along the side of buildings as it sought it’s prey.

There was something still out there, watching. She could feel it in the way the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Whoever did this, they were still out there.

It made her queasiness worse but she kept up her search, feeling as though her head was remaining still while the rest of her body swung around it, unsure which way was up anymore, eyes closing as she swallowed again and again, throat dry and scratching as she fought the need to vomit, tasting blood on her tongue.

What was that?

Off to her right. A warning, darkness her magic balked from. Where her magic had touched seemed wrong, rancid, twisted and angry. There was magic, but it wasn’t right, wasn’t like the magic she normally sensed in others and it sent chills down her spine, goose-bumps breaking out over her skin as she drew her magic back, feeling cold and shaky in a way that had nothing to do with the blast and everything to do with revulsion.

There was something out there. Something that hated in a way that Morgana couldn’t comprehend. Something, or _someone_ that had let that fury twist them into something inhuman, into something that was letting the anger rot them from the inside, their soul decaying.

“Fuck,” Morgana breathed,  
****  
“Fuck me,” Arthur breathed as he took in the destruction and chaos, the move from their quiet street to the disaster zone jarring. The remains of the stage was on fire, the sound system sparking and shorting out, the snaps and bursts of electricity sharp over the sounds of sirens and screams. Concrete dust and ash twirled on the breeze that brought the metallic scent of fresh blood, covering broken chairs and broken limbs alike, blocking out the nascent sunlight and its gentle warmth.

The physical half of Merlin remained in Arthur’s arms, while his magical half determined the damage, wave after wave seeking out the heartbeats and breaths of those beneath the rubble, assessing those with the most need, spells trickling from his lips as he sent what aid he could in his weakened state before turning to find Morgana, confident the approaching emergency services he could hear would be there soon.

“Morgana?” Merlin yelled as he stumbled in a circle, whipping around as he scanned for his friend, bleeding feet leaving red prints in his wake, Arthur fighting to keep his lover upright on the uneven ground.

“Morgana!”

Where was she?

“Morgana?” 

Was she one of those trapped beneath the masonry, one that he’d sent air to, kept their hearts beating? His magic told him she was close, alive but the air was so thick, and it was so very hard to concentrate over the sound of the suffering, the death that hung over the square pushing at Merlin, like a weight on his chest, breathing becoming a struggle. His magic flourished in the light, in happiness and life. But this was a place of pain and anger and hate.

“Morgana!” 

There. Arthur would recognise that elegant figure anywhere, despite the hair turned prematurely grey from ash and the torn and bloodied suit, face pale as she stared at some point in the distance, one arm cradled protectively against her chest as she swayed, staring into the distance.

“Morgana!” Grabbing Merlin’s wrist, Arthur scrambled to his sister’s side, falling to his knees as he tripped, jeans ripping as the pavement bit into his skin before Merlin hauled him to his feet.

Still Morgana stared, though she seemed unseeing, green eyes wide and dazed, blood trailing in lazy ribbons down one cheek and down her neck.

“Morgs?” Arthur reached out, carefully moulding one large palm to the curve of her shoulder, aware the injuries he could see were likely outnumbered by those he could not, not wishing to cause her more pain. He was terrified by how cold her skin was, wishing he had something to wrap her in.

“Is she- does she know we’re here?” He demanded, looking over to Merlin, slowly waving his free hand in front of Morgana’s eyes, his sister blinking but not re-directing her gaze.

“Morgana, its Merlin. Can you hear me?”

Morgana raised her left hand and pointed, whole arm trembling as she directed their attention towards where she’d felt the presence.

“There.”

“Magic?” Merlin asked. Morgana’s gaze slid to his slowly, still unfocused, pupils dilated as she stared at him, a frown creasing her brow as though she were confused as to how and when they’d arrived.

“No. Yes. No. “ Morgana shook her head, then groaned at the fresh pulse of pain and nausea the movement provoked, grunting as she panted against the need to vomit what little breakfast she’d eaten hours ago, eyes sliding closed as her head swam.

Cool fingers cradled her face, Merlin’s gentle touch soothing in itself before he sent his own magic into her, pushing it into her blood and through her heart, spreading through her body with every beat of her heart, the pain and nausea ebbing, the wounds knitting back together, stopping the bleeding.

“Better?” Merlin asked, relieved to see colour return to Morgana’s cheeks and her eyes zero in on him.

“Hmmm, much. Thank you.” The last was spoken into Arthur’s shoulder as her brother swept her into a crushing hug, pressing kisses into her hair as he blinked away tears.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered, over and over as Merlin rubbed his back, other hand gliding down Morgana’s arm to grasp her hand.

“We need to go find what my magic sensed.” 

Merlin froze and looked at the witch. “Morgana. You’ve been hur-”

“And you’ve healed me. With you with me, we’re practically unstoppable.”

“I materialised here, my batteries are drained.”

“We can handle it.”

Arthur stepped in, arm wrapping protectively around his boyfriend.

“We should wait Morgana. Take a look around,” Arthur gestured to the flurry of activity behind them, to the cops cordoning off the area, to the paramedics rushing to people’s sides, to the firemen levering masonry off of victims, the cries of the suffering loud above the sirens, the weeping of a young woman cutting through it all as she held the hand of a man whose sightless eyes stared at the sky.

“There could be more attacks, they could kill again, Arthur. We have to go. And if you wont come with me, then I’ll go alone.”

With that Morgana shook free of their holds, spine straight and jaw tight as she moved, assured that neither Merlin nor Arthur would let her go more than a pace or two without them by her side.

Sometimes you had to do what was right, and damn the consequences.


End file.
